She bowed head over close-locked hands. “I marked him for mine own. I know not how. Some fisher lads who paid some timid calls, a London’prentice winking in the street: what more knew I of men, or they of me? I thought I saw a glint in Rupert’s glance, then dared not think it of the prince, the prince. But this poor chick—My skill affrighted me. I widened eyes at his vast earnestness, then shyly fluttered them, and sighed a bit; let fingers linger when he helped dismount; drew breath and held it for to flush my cheek and swell my bosom… whilst I crouched alert. Tonight the ring has said there is a chance, and so I hauled him in, struck home the gaff, and mean to leave him gasping on the strand… Is it a deadly sin if done for Rupert? I fear it is. My sin, my sin, not his.”
She crossed herself, and remained for a time huddled silent.
The door opened. She glimpsed her guard outside, then Sword-of-the-Lord closed it again. His lungs labored but he moved fast. A moment he took to kiss the Book he bore and lay it on the bed. Jennifer had jumped erect. “I wear two suits of clothes, one’neath the next,” he told her. “Be not alarmed when I take off the first.”
She had to giggle.
After he had removed shoes—drawing from his wallet a pair for her—and the outer tunic, shirt, breeches, stockings: he swung about and threw an arm across his eyes as if this were a game of hide-and-seek.
“Upon mine honor, lady, I’ll not look,” he said, hoarse with embarrassment.
She laughed low and touched lips to his, which almost felled him. “Why, in this darkness I’m a simple blob.” she said. He held his stance.
As she undressed and reclad herself behind his back, she continued: “I’ve bethought me of thy safety—”
“Will I not join thee?” he asked, dismayed.
“ ’Tis better not. Truly. We’d have to set a rendezvous, and who knows how I must dodge about? Besides, thy disappearance—ye men share a room, don’t ye?—’twould rouse quick suspicion and chase. Nay, come forth churned—thou’rt no actor—to say I refused thy ministrations after all, as if my possessor had twinned. Take to thy bed as if in sorrow o’er it. They’ll question thee in the morning, of course. Say what thou wilt—the truth may be best—but declare I bewitched thee till none could ha’ known what went on. They like thee well, I’ve marked, no matter how they bait thee. Fain’ll they believe, and take the blame themselves for leaving an innocent boy thus alone with a sorceress.”
“I more than half believe the thing myself,” he mumbled.
Me too, she thought. I ne’er have felt this giddiness, this swerve and swoop upon a tingling wind, save when with Rupert, and mayhap not then. Is’t but I have no time to be afraid?
“I can’t let thee flee alone!” he said. “Where’lt thou go? Who’ll protect thee?”
“I’ve thought of the English consulate. Belike’tis Royalist, especially here in Marseilles. If not, there’ll be Royalists elsewhere about. Remember, I know a bit o’ French, to ask my way and—Curse whoever made men’s clothes! Every single button in the wrong place. Wilt thou help?… Nay, don’t tremble. I’m learning how… Ah. Behold thy boy companion, Sword-of-the-Lord.”
Jennifer moved to the window, where some light remained. The first stars were twinkling forth. He could see that his clothes hung baggy on her, which served to hide the curves beneath. A shining caught his eye.
“Thy hair,” he said frantically. “I couldn’t well bring a hat along, indoors, and forgot—”
“I didn’t. Thou hast thy steel. I’ve never doubted thou keepest the edge keen.”
“What? Oh, nay, I beg thee!”
“Haggle these locks off short. They’ll grow back on a live scalp.’Tis false what’s said about corpses: anyhow, if they fried at the stake.”
He winced, took up the blade he had removed with his outer garb, and obeyed her. Then he stood dumb by starlight, holding the tresses to him.
She grinned from beneath the ragged cut. “So at last thou’st made a Roundhead of me,” she said. “I ought to stroll right by their man in the gateway, if he doesn’t converse.” With a glance at the roof-top opposite, and its chimney starting to show silver:’That’s if I’m begone in the next few minutes. Full moon this night.”
“And what abroad beneath it?” He shuddered. “Merely me. And… aye, thy love. Let it not live too long.
Thou hast a life before thee, dear.” She gave him a real kiss on the mouth. “Farewell.”
In a single movement he dropped her shorn hair, caught her wrists, upheld her as she wriggled onto the sill, and lowered her down the wall. She had less than a yard to go when he released her. Already the blackness had taken her from his sight. Hanging out the window, he heard soles hit stones. Was a word blown upward to him? He couldn’t tell. She was gone. He dragged himself back to stand alone in the room.
XVIII
The moon had lately cleared steep eastern hills. It tinged roofs, towers of forts and churches, masts of ships; westward the bay had begun to sparkle above darkness; the sky was more purple than black, stars few and small. Shadows reached thick from buildings along the docks. A breeze slid out of the north, stirring up odors of tar and fish; hawsers creaked, wavelets clucked on hulls.
A squad of the watch tramped from around one side of a warehouse. Lantern light bobbed before them, shimmered off pikes and armor. It touched a slight figure in somber, ill-fitting garments that had just turned the opposite corner.
“Halte-ld!” barked the leader. The person froze. Dark-blond hair, white countenance and collar, made a blur in gloom. The guardsmen quick-stepped ahead. “Qui va Id?”
“Un anglais,” said a high, faltering voice, “du groupe qui a hue aujourd’hui ce bateau Id.” An arm pointed to a chebeck which lay some ways off, a lamp betokening sailors left on board against thieves.
’’Ah, out.” The leader gestured his men to slow down. “Jemensouviens. Lesparpaillots.” Contempt tinged his indifference: “Qa va, passe, gargon!”
Jennifer proceeded openly to cast loose the jollyboat’s painter and climb down into its hull. The patrol had no reason to suppose she had any other errand than some business on the vessel to which it belonged. They soon tramped out of sight. Meanwhile, most softly, she rowed from the wharf. When well away, she stopped and peeked in her wallet. Lurninousness cascaded forth. The ring is shining yet, she gloried.’Tis as I guessed. This boat’s my luck… aye, see, an unstepped mast, and wind to bear me southward where I’d seek. Where Rupert is! This night is day for me.
Having hidden the sigil again, she got to work, deftly fitting rudder in brackets, lowering leeboard, raising and staying mast, unfurling lugsail and hoisting it on its yard. That was not an unduly hard task; the craft was quite small. Her thoughts ran on: Poor trusting Sword-of-the-Lord, I’m truly sorry I left thee here behind to bear the brunt, and halfway lied to thee about my plan. But thou wouldst ne’er have let me put to sea, and least of all to steer in search of him… My Rupert… I can’t help that I am glad.
The sail flapped, filled, and bellied out. The boat swished forward. Jennifer settled herself at the tiller. No food aboard nor water—and no fear, she thought. The ring will not betray me to my death. I may well suffer somewhat on the trip. What matter? I’m no longer starved for freedom, and I will drink me drunk upon salt air.